Chapter Text
“Will you just listen to me!” Mike yelled; a heavy silence followed. “Thank you. Now, like I was saying, we already know where we need to go next. It’s the only place we haven’t looked.”
“It’s not the only place we haven’t looked,” Dustin argued. “It’s just the only place you want to look.” His body matched the exhausted tone he'd been carrying the past year and a half. Ever since Eddie—
“We’ve never been able to get through before,” Nancy added, her chin resting on the butt of her rifle.
The light from the projector illuminated the room. The map covering half the wall glowed with several red lines: places they'd already searched, dead ends, and military zones. The converted living space in the basement of the WSQK had served as their 'headquarters' ever since the last guy ditched town in hopes of escaping the apocalypse. Mike hated the place, but it wasn't like they had a plethora of options at their disposal. It was close to an entrance to the tunnels from hell, which apparently was reason enough to set up shop.
That and Robin—when she wasn't spinning records and spewing nonsense—used the broadcast to signal the next crawl.
“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try again,” Mike insisted. “I mean, what are we even doing other than wasting time looking in places we know Vecna isn’t.”
“But we don’t know that,” El said, not unkindly. “He could be anywhere.”
Mike took a deep breath; he wouldn’t snap at her even if he felt like he was sitting on a live wire, just waiting to be electrocuted. “It makes sense. He’s either behind the wall—which we’ve also never been able to get through—or the bats are protecting him in the one part of the map that we’ve never been able to get to.”
“That’s true,” Jonathan agreed, though his posture and crossed arms didn't instill much confidence. “We’ve never even been close. It’s either the swarm of bats or the Demo’s.”
“Like they are guarding something,” Eleven said with a nod.
Hopper sighed, his attention on Mike. “Look, kid, I know you think—”
“No, you don't know,” Mike glared. “Don’t act like I don’t have a clue what I’m talking about. We’ve tried it your way. We’ve scoured the Upside Down, searching each section meticulously, and have found nothing. Max is lying in a hospital bed, kids are going missing, and people are still dying. If we don’t do something, really do something, then we might as well just give up.”
Lucas wasn’t there, because of course he was at Max’s bedside, but he knew he’d agree. Anything to get Max to wake up.
Hopper rubbed his eyebrow. “Okay. And how do you propose we get through when the last time we tried, we nearly lost Steve and Dustin? Robin still walks with a limp—”
“—It’s getting better,” Robin added quickly.
“—And Jonathan was unconscious for three days.”
“We need a distraction. We can draw them away,” Mike explained, because he’d been thinking about it non-stop since they’d discovered it in the first place. It was about a two-mile stretch of land backed by Lake Jordan. There was a small neighborhood within the quadrant, but not much else. Not exactly prime real estate for Vecna to hold up and recover, but it was the most heavily guarded place in the Upside Down. It had to be something important. “Like Eddie did.”
Dustin stood straighter from where he was leaning against the wall. El took his hand and squeezed. Years ago, the sight would have made him jealous. Now, Mike was only happy that they’d both found someone. Dustin was a mess after Eddie; without her, Mike wasn’t sure what would have happened.
When El lost her powers after fighting the Mind Flayer, Dustin helped her hold on to who she was. They were good for each other. Much better than she and Mike had ever been. If you could even call what they had a relationship. It started with resentment and ended with a mutual understanding that they weren't what the other needed.
Mike, as it turned out, wasn't what anyone needed. Everyone had their 'person': Nancy and Jonathan, Lucas and Max, Dustin and El. Mike lost his years ago and had yet to come back from it.
“So,” Nancy started. “A group to distract and then a group to infiltrate? That might work if it were only the bats, but the second anyone gets close, the Demo’s attack. We’d need an army to make it through.”
“Maybe not,” El said; her hand still wrapped around Dustin’s. “If you guys can keep the bats away, I can hold off the Demos.”
“El—” Hopper started.
“I’ve been getting stronger. I can do it.”
“I’m not saying you can’t.”
“Then what?”
“It would be dangerous. Too many things could go wrong.”
“Too many things have already gone wrong,” Jonathan muttered. “Mike’s right, we need to do something.”
“If we could get the military to follow and the bats started to attack, they’d have no choice but to help us,” Nancy said, shifting into planning mode.
Mike zoned out as the others rattled off scenarios and possible solutions to improbable questions. He used to love this part: the planning. Preparing for the unknown, covering all bases, and organizing a way to make sure they all make it out alive. Now, he just wanted a chance to rip into a Demogorgon and see Vecna in pieces.
“All of this is great, but Mike, you’re not coming,” Hopper said, pulling him back into the conversation.
“What?!” Mike sputtered. “Is this about last time? I told you I didn’t do it on purpose.”
At least, Mike didn’t think it was on purpose. It didn’t feel like it was, but he’d seen the looks on their faces when he crawled his way out from the Demogorgon, teeth marks embedded in his arm as the blood gushed onto the filthy ground. He knew he should have died, just like when he was twelve, and he jumped off the quarry. Both times were to save his friends. It wasn’t like he was trying to get himself killed. He wasn’t.
He wasn’t.
At least, Mike didn’t think he was.
But if it came down to it, he would take the place of anyone in that room. No questions asked. Mike didn’t want to die, but a lot of the time, he didn’t really want to live either. It all felt so pointless. Mundane. Unnecessary.
“You’re not coming,” Hopper repeated with finality.
“Fuck you. You don’t get to decide that for me.” The chair scraped against the cement floor as Mike shoved it out of his way.
“Mike,” Nancy scolded.
“I’m going. It was my idea.”
“You can do something else to help,” Dustin tried. “You don’t have to go into the Upside Down every time.”
Mike ignored him. They didn’t understand, and it didn’t matter. He would win in the end anyway. Whether they conceded early or he argued until no one could bear it anymore.
***
With the plan set, everyone started to prepare. It wasn’t their first crawl, but it felt like something different. The tension in the air matched the nerves flowing through Mike’s body as he packed his bag with spare ammo and supplies.
The plan was something like this:
Mike, Hopper, El, and Nancy would be in the first truck; they’d wait until the bats were cleared, and then it was up to El to buy them enough time for Nancy to drive them through. Once they made it across the invisible threshold, they’d search the area. The secondary team consisted of Jonathan, Steve, Robin, and Dustin. They would distract the bats. Lucas would remain at the hospital in case they did locate Vecna. He refused to let Max wake up alone.
Joyce and Murray would watch from the tower outside the Mac-Z and report anything unexpected from the military. They only needed enough time to search two miles. It had been agreed that they wouldn't involve them until it became absolutely necessary. With El in the Upside Down, it wasn't worth the risk.
The trip through the gate was a blur. Routine and uneventful.
It wasn't their first crawl. It probably wasn't even their thirtieth. Mike had lost count.
Getting in was simple enough. With the burn happening, all military personnel were sent to the Mac-Z. Which meant one of the largest sections along the multiple cracks running straight through Hawkins was left unmanned. El would tamper with the security camera while everyone else heading into the void would remove the mental barricades in the ground.
On the other side were two military trucks they'd managed to steal in the early days when they thought they had it all figured out in an afternoon. Knowing they only had so much fuel, they only used the vehicles when necessary. Like trying to distract and infiltrate a guard line of psychotic bats and Demo's.
Mike jumped into the back as Nancy started the engine. Hopper hadn't taken his eyes off him, and the heavy gaze—filled with unspoken words—was prickling at his already anxious nerves.
"What?" he finally snapped.
"I'm worried about you, kid. We all are," Hopper said, low enough that only Mike could hear over the roar of the engine.
"Well, you don't need to." Mike was aware his tone lacked any conviction, but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to reassure the man. Not when he'd spent an entire week trying to get them off his back.
It wasn't until Joyce sat him down and looked at him with her pleading eyes, saturated with so much pain, pleading silently that he promised to try harder. He didn't need words to know what she was trying to convey: please don't make me lose another child.
"Just don't do anything stupid."
Mike chewed on the inside of his lip as the truck swayed. El ducked into the back with a deep breath.
"I'm ready."
Hopper looked between the two of them. "I still don't know why I agreed to this plan."
Mike watched the horrid landscape of the Upside Down pass from the back of the truck. The red lightning flashed across the sky.
"We're close!" Nancy called from the front.
"Alright, we wait for the bats to disperse and then El," Hopper nodded to his daughter. "You'll hold them off, just long enough for us to get through, and then the others will be circling back to help."
El reached for his arm. "I'll be okay."
Mike heard the flapping of wings and then the whining screech wafting through the thick, toxic air. The collective hoard of bats was loud enough to drown out the rumbling engine almost entirely. Even with a mile still between them.
"It's working!" Nancy yelled, relief lightening her tone. "They're leaving!"
"Give it a minute," Hopper called back.
The truck stalled as they waited for a path to clear, and then they were off. At the last second, El jumped from the back. Once she was at a safe distance, Nancy floored it through the gap created by the other team. Now it was up to them to make it all the way through.
It was all going fine, until it wasn't.
"Guys!" Nancy bellowed. "We need—"
Something heavy slammed into the side of the truck, sending Mike skidding to the other side. He grappled for something to hang onto.
The all too familiar sound of a Demogorgon filled the darkness as Nancy swerved along the sparse dirt path. The creature didn't relent, even as Hopper emptied a clip into it. The chase dragged, while the only thing Mike could think of was that they were missing their chance, now driving away from where they wanted to go in the hopes of outrunning the Demo.
"Hold on!"
Nancy took a corner too sharply, causing Mike to lose his balance. Hopper reached out but missed him by a hair. Mike barely registered that he was falling until he hit the ground with a hard thud.
A gasp punched out of him as he rolled across the wet ground. Wherever he'd landed, the bats were everywhere. Mike scrambled to his feet as he fought to get the thick, likely toxic air into his lungs. The Demo had followed the truck while Mike was pushed in the opposite direction as he ran from the chaotic flapping of wings.
Mike didn't risk a glance over his shoulder as he took off, hoping whatever distraction the others had come up with would pull their attention, and he could find El.
A tail wrapped around his neck, yanking him off his feet and forcing him back on the ground. He kicked uselessly, scrambling for purchase while he gripped the rubbery flesh in an attempt to pry the bat off.
With the adrenaline coursing through him, he released one hand from around the thick tail in favor of reaching for the knife wedged into his belt. His fingers connected with the handle of the blade before he lodged it into the creature. A scream echoed through the open space as the bat released its hold. Immediate relief filled his lungs as he sucked in a breath, gasping for the unclean air.
Only a second passed before another bat was on him, biting into the skin of his stomach and ripping. Mike coughed through an agonizing scream as the blood pooled onto his shirt, soaking the fabric with a slick sheen. The putrid smell wafted around him, settling in the back of his throat as he tried not to gag through the agonizing sobs. His only reprieve happened when pieces of torn flesh hung from teeth-filled mouths as they gnawed on the chewy bits, leaving him enough time to scramble farther back.
Mike swung the knife in every direction, fighting off the demonic creatures. The blade connected with one of the winged Demos, sending it scrambling back a few feet. Slick with warm blood, the knife slid from his grasp after driving it into the oncoming bat's eye. Black liquid spilled around the organ in rampant waves. The whirling, screeching screams trampled over the sound of his beating heart.
Static filled his ears as his head emptied of everything except the determination to keep fighting. To stay alive.
If he died, his death would have been meaningless. A complete waste. And Mike was not going to let that happen, not after everything. Not when he'd forced himself to stay present, to save the goddamn world over and over again. If Mike was going to die, then it was going to mean something.
Dark spots swarmed his vision as the pain soared through his broken and battered body. In a last-ditch effort, Mike forced himself up on unsteady legs when the remaining bats were distracted by what they'd managed to pull off him.
The ground vibrated beneath his feet as he stumbled across the dirt. His arm was wrapped around his stomach, both to dull the pain and attempt to keep whatever blood was left in his body.
Finally, he reached a row of trees thick enough to block him from view. His legs gave out, and he collapsed.
***
Mike woke to the sound of his own wheezing. He winced as he tried to lift his arm. A flash of light skirted over his vision as he tried to open his eyes. The motion of sitting up sent him into a coughing fit. The smell of mildew and copper surrounded him, only making him more nauseous. His hand came away wet and red, and it didn’t take him long to discover where the source of his pain was coming from.
Mike didn’t have to lift his shirt since most of it had been chewed away by small teeth. Chunks of his torso had been ripped to shreds, or were missing entirely. None of them were terribly deep, from what he could tell. A few would need stitches, but luckily, he didn’t think he was going to bleed to death any time soon.
His arms ached as he attempted to push himself up, only to fall flat on his ass. Deciding to give himself another well-deserved moment of rest, he took in everything around him. The horrors of the Upside Down continued to flash through the dark sky. Mike was leaning against a rotted tree trunk, wincing and still leaking blood from several points. There was something wrong with his leg, but he didn't know if it was from the fight or falling from the truck. He didn't know where he was, none of his surroundings hinted at anything familiar. All he really knew was he was bleeding, in crippling pain, and alone.
Alone.
And missing his backpack. Which meant no medical supplies and no way to call for help.
Mike took a deep breath, stuttering at the end as he cringed at the sting of pain radiating all the way down to his toes.
In summary, Mike was fucked.
He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to make it through with his life. Or maybe he hadn’t, and he was in hell.
Playing on the side of caution and assuming that he was in fact still alive, Mike pushed himself up—this time making it to his feet on unsteady legs. If he were to be stuck there, the least he could do is take a look around. Surely, they’d be back for him. Eventually. Hopefully.
Mike wiped the blood from his hands on his pants, which were also tattered and torn. He could hear every inhale and the raspy protest from his lungs. It felt like trying to breathe through smoke. Whatever particles were in the air coated his throat and left him dizzy. Or maybe that was the blood loss. Perhaps from the bites. Who knew what sort of diseases they were carrying? He remembered Robin mentioning something about rabies after they’d come back from battling the hellish creatures almost two years ago. That would be just his luck; survive through the unimaginable just to be taken out by a bite.
Mike ignored the limp in his right leg as he staggered across the barren land once he was through the trees. He stopped every few steps to listen for any sign of flapping wings or the telltale signs of grawling Demogorgons. If he was right, which he doubted he was, if he kept walking, he'd reach a small neighborhood, and past that would be Lake Jordan.
If he could make it to one of the houses, then at least he could get himself cleaned up, find a weapon or two, and be just a little bit less helpless.
***
Mike wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking. There was still nothing in sight, so surely, he hadn’t made it all that far. His legs were protesting the trek, and eventually he was forced to take a break longer than a second. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the mutilated parts of his body. He was sure the thick layer of red was making it all look worse than it was. At least, that was the hope.
For a brief moment, he closed his eyes. There was a line of trees to his left; he knew anything could be lurking inside, but he was exhausted. Dehydrated. And running on the last bit of energy he could muster. His fears were confirmed when the leaves started to rattle.
He could have blamed it on the wind if there was ever wind in the Upside Down.
There wasn’t.
Only monsters that could probably smell the dried and fresh blood covering his body like a second skin.
Mike took inventory, which left him short of—well, anything. He’d lost his spear, his gun, and even his backpack. Quickly—as quick as his battered body would allow—Mike forced himself back to his feet and started stumbling away, mindful of keeping his sights on the approaching enemy.
The bushes parted.
Mike held his breath, pushing himself back further.
That was it. Whatever unblemished parts of him that remained were about to be torn to shreds, and there wasn’t a thing that Mike could do about it.
But it wasn’t a monster that came out of the trees. It was a person. A boy.
Mike froze. His lungs refused to work as he held his breath.
Then he was spotted, and the boy stopped in his tracks; with skillful movements, he quickly slung the rifle off his shoulder and pointed it at Mike’s chest. Mike raised his hands while trying to keep most of his weight on his left leg.
“Whoa. Hey,” Mike said, his eyes wide as he stared at the tip of the gun. “Just hold on. I’m not—I’m not going to hurt you.”
Mike glanced over his shoulder. There wasn’t anywhere for him to go. Even without an injured leg, he wouldn’t have been able to make it to the houses or anywhere that would offer cover. The sparse line of trees was on the other side of the gun-wielding person, and Mike wasn’t about to go around him.
The boy's shoulders shifted into a stiff line, his finger inching closer to the trigger as he studied Mike with rapid attention.
“I can…” Mike searched his mind for anything useful. “I can just go. You don’t need to… You don’t need to shoot me.”
Mike coughed into the crook of his arm as he fell back a step. He really wanted to sit down.
The person moved closer; his eyes were squinted and glaring, though there was something wrong with the left one.
“Whoa,” Mike put his hands back up as the distance between them shrank. “Okay, um…” His heart was threatening to beat out of his chest. He couldn’t have been part of the government. He was too young. And the way he was dressed, the scars, the way his hair was cut in a haphazard way… If Mike didn’t know any better, he’d say the boy had been living there.
But that…that would have been impossible. Mike knew—Mike was told—that it was impossible. At every corner, every imposing question, Mike's theories were shot down. No one could survive more than a week in the Upside Down, Mike. You have to let it go. You have to move on. It's time to move on. The voice echoed in his head, not even taking the tone of a singular person, because he had heard it from everyone at least once.
He lowered the gun an inch to reveal the rest of his face.
Mike blinked.
A small gasp escaped his parted lips as he stared in shock. All the muscles in Mike's body were pulled tight, his posture rigid. His hand came to rest over his mouth as his eyes grew three times their normal size. Dried tears threatened to be replaced with fresh drops of water. It was difficult to tell whether his heart had stopped or was beating so frantically that it all blended into a stiff ache.
“Will?” He fell back another step in disbelief. It couldn’t be. That would be—that would be impossible. But it was him. It was definitely him.
Will tilted his head to the side as he lowered the gun further. Not completely, but enough that Mike wasn’t as worried that he was going to be shot.
“Holy fucking shit,” Mike muttered, and then louder. “Oh my god. You’re fucking alive? How-how are you alive? I was told—" Well, it didn't matter anymore because they were wrong. They were wrong.
Will glared, dropping the gun completely as he turned around and started walking back towards the cover of trees.
“Hey!” Will flinched but kept walking. “Wait,” Mike scrambled to follow. “Where are you going?”
The limp was slightly worse, but he paid it no mind as he rushed to catch up with Will, who was moving unfairly fast with practiced ease.
“Wait,” he tried again. “Please, Will, I just want to talk.”
Mike had to stop for a second to catch his breath, but only a second because Will wasn’t waiting. Shit.
There were so many things rushing through Mike’s head. His skin felt like it was falling off his bones, and whatever was left of his clothes was sliding against him with the wetness from the blood, but the only thing he cared about was getting to Will.
In all of the times that Mike had imagined this very moment, none of them consisted of Will walking—practically running—away from him.
His best friend. His dead best friend.
“Will!”
Mike ground his teeth as he whined through the pain. By the time he’d caught up with Will, he was out of breath and wheezing pathetically. “Please, just—slow down,” he begged.
Will glanced over his shoulder before he hit his own head with the palm of his hand, hard. The look on his face was agonizing. It almost hurt worse than the bites littered around his torso to see Will so distraught. Scared.
And then he did it again. And again.
“Whoa, stop that, don’t hurt yourself.” Mike was close enough that he could reach out and pull his arm away.
Will jumped back, his eyes wide like he was just realizing Mike was there. Up close, Mike could see the violent scar running through his left eye, starting from the middle of his forehead to the underside of his cheekbone. The colored part bled unevenly into the white of his eyes from where whatever claw or sharp object had torn into his face.
Mike shot back when the gun was pointed at him once more. Realization dawning on him, “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to touch you. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Mike stood extremely still as Will pressed the barrel of the gun into his chest. It hit him like a ton of bricks that he might die, and for the second time since he could remember, Mike didn’t want to. He didn’t want that to be his last moment. There was someone to save. Someone who needed him–well, maybe not in his current state. Someone he could help.
“Will, please. It’s me. It’s Mike, you know me. I’m not going to hurt you. I would never hurt you.”
“Mike?” Will whispered.
Mike felt a weight lift off him at the sound of his voice. It had changed, nowhere near what he’d hear in his head more times than he’d like to admit. Deeper, raspier, like he didn’t use it all that often. But it was still Will.
“Yeah, yeah, Mike. You remember?”
Will lowered the gun. His expression was unreadable. He turned his back on Mike once more and continued to wherever he was going. He didn’t get far, Mike following closer, before he heard a soft no.
“Okay,” Mike hurried his steps until he was in line with Will. Mindful of keeping space between them, even if he wanted to reach out. To pull him into his arms and cry until there was nothing left. “Okay, that’s alright. I’m sure it will come back to you.”
Will ignored him.
Mike stared at him unabashedly. The differences from his twelve-year-old self were so stark and obvious that it ripped apart something inside him that he thought died with Will. Or he supposed didn’t. All his soft lines had turned sharp. His fair skin was nearly translucent, probably due to the lack of sunlight. His hair was cut unevenly, no longer a bull shape, something more rugged. Still short, still soft.
Mike could see the start of a few scars peaking through the collar of his sweatshirt. All various widths and colors; years' worth of trauma etched into his skin.
“Where are you going?” Mike asked. His leg was growing stiffer, while his entire abdomen felt like it was tearing open with each step. He'd barely gotten over the shock of seeing Will. His head was ready to combust with all the emotions running rampant through his thoroughly exhausted mind.
Will turned his attention towards him, studying, calculating. Without a word, he continued on as if Mike weren’t there.
Okay, so no talking. Mike could work with that. In the first several years of their friendship, Mike could probably count on one hand the number of times he got Will to talk. He was used to the silence, because it was never really quiet. Will was expressive through his art and his reactions, and even the small microexpressions he made that gave him away. Mike had learned to read him like one of his favorite books.
His heart ached with the thought that he’d suffered so greatly he’d stopped talking. Again.
Mike could see the lake in the distance. They must have gone around the few scattered houses that he knew were within the protected area.
The thought plowed right into Mike, almost knocking him off his feet:
Will was behind the wall of bats. He was what they were never able to get near. Which meant Vecna/Henry/One was keeping Will here. Keeping him for… For something. He’d have to figure that out.
For a moment, Mike thought they were going straight for the water until Will veered to the right and came upon a small cabin that looked more like a shed, right on the lip of the lake. The water sloshed against the rocky shore as the red lightning danced through the sky.
Mike didn’t have a chance to take in the exterior for fear that if he didn’t stay right next to Will as he pushed open the creaky door, he’d be locked out. Will seemed to be of the same mind as he quickened his pace through the small entryway. Luckily, Mike made it inside before the door fell shut. Will watched him for a moment, analyzing, before he sighed and started a long process of barricading the door. His movements were practiced and perfected as he bolted and latched the wood in place. Routine.
Will kicked off his boots and stared at Mike expectantly until he did the same. It was difficult to maneuver his feet out of his shoes while keeping his balance, but he managed.
The single room was bathed in darkness. Whatever windows may have shed a ray of light into the space were boarded up, leaving a soft glow peaking through the cracks. It was enough to make out general shapes and allow him to track Will's movements, but kept the majority of the space dark. The hair on the back of his neck rose as though something were going to jump out of the shadows.
Will moved around with ease as he lit the few lanterns, filling the room with enough light that Mike could take it all in. He'd already noted the lack of particles dancing through the air, but now he could see the clean expanse floating around him.
“Wow,” Mike mummbled, more to himself.
Will ignored him still.
The room was no larger than his basement. The walls were littered with pages torn from books, magazines, drawings, and worst of all, tally marks. Mike swallowed as he traced the thin lines. There wasn’t a single inch of space that didn’t have a slash running across the wood. If he were to count them all, he was pretty sure they’d amount to 1428.
3 years. 10 months. 27 days.
Mike stumbled; his hand connected with a small desk pushed up against one of the walls. The lantern on the surface was lighting up everything in the vicinity. There were a few papers scattered, most torn from books and drawn over. Mike supposed there was probably a shortage of blank paper for Will to work with.
In the corner was a small bed, piled high with blankets. A bookshelf filled with various trinkets and novels sat next to one of the boarded-up windows. Mike continued to look around as Will sat in a chair near the door and watched him.
There was stuff everywhere. Lining the walls, scattered around the floor like a maze, placed on shelves, no matter where Mike looked, there was something. He could tell there was some sort of system of organization going on, but he’d need a while to figure out what it was. In one spot, there seemed to be a place for canned food. Another held various toiletries. While one area had weapons. Many, many weapons ranging from guns to widdled spears and butter knives.
He was standing in almost 4 years of survival.
“This is,” Mike finally said. “Have you been here the whole time?”
The air was easier to breathe in there, less thick since the wood must have filtered some of the particles out. It was almost clean. Almost.
Will stared at him. Unresponsive. His posture was stiff and uncomfortable.
Mike took a step forward only to nearly fall back against the nearest wall. Will stood abruptly as Mike lost his balance and slid ungracefully to the floor. Will took a step forward, the first flicker of emotion flashing across his face. Concern, maybe. It was a lot easier to tell when they were twelve.
Mike closed his eyes for a second, trying to control his breathing. When he opened them, Will was right there, examining his torso with a clinical eye.
Mike shifted at the attention. “It’s not that bad,” he found himself lying. Playing it down so Will wouldn’t worry. If the situation were any different, Mike could have laughed at how easily he stepped back into their friendship.
Will didn’t even remember who he was.
Mike was probably going to pass out. Too many things flickering through his head, to the point he felt delirious. Part of him believed that if he were to fall unconscious, Will would be gone when he woke. A figment of his twisted imagination. Maybe he was still lying under the bats, bleeding out, and this was his subconscious's way of easing the pain. Giving him the one thing he'd always wanted—prayed for—before he died.
Were they looking for him? No one had come back.
Yet. Of course.
Will reached out, his hand shaking slightly. He paused, glanced at Mike’s watchful eyes, before resuming. With a delicate touch, Will lifted whatever scraps of fabric were left of his shirt. Mike didn’t look; he focused on Will’s expression. The subtle lilt to his brow, the quirk of his lips. He took it all in. Memorized every line and replaced them with the image he’d held onto in his absence.
For the first time since he’d seen Will alive, Mike really took him in.
“I’ve missed you so goddamn much,” Mike muttered, his eyes were slipping, but he refused to close them. If this wasn't real, then he was going to bask in every second of it until it was over. And then he only hoped that he wouldn't wake up to find out it was all in his head.
Will ignored him once again, but his jaw was tense like he was forcing himself not to acknowledge Mike. Instead, he stood and moved to the other side of the room. There was a shelf filled with plastic water bottles, the labels long since faded off. He grabbed one and then flung open a metal drawer that looked to have been a large toolbox, and snatched up a few torn pieces of cloth. He set his items beside Mike before grabbing a few more things and kneeling beside him.
Using a plastic bowl, Will poured some of the water inside and dampened one of the rags. Mike whined and shifted back as he started to dab them against his stomach, where he assumed the bulk of his injuries lived.
Will kept his gaze averted as he wiped the blood away. Mike held his breath through the worst of it and exhaled shakily when he pulled his hand away to rinse the cloth. Since Mike was only focusing on his face, he missed whatever it was he picked up before he mumbled, “It’s going to sting.”
Mike nodded. When the cold liquid met his scorching skin, he sucked air through his teeth. “Fuck,” Mike whined as tears crested his waterline.
His vision blurred as he kicked his foot, trying to escape the sting as it moved across his entire body. Mike was sure he'd lost consciousness because when he opened his eyes again, they were wet, and Will hummed like he’d solved a complicated puzzle before wiping the area clean—as clean as it could be in the Upside Down—and dressed it with long strips of stained cloth.
When it was done, Mike forced his eyes down to examine the covered damage, his breath still coming in stuttered waves. “I’m going to live then?” he said sarcastically. The whole situation was beyond surreal.
Will sat back but didn’t respond. He chewed on his lip, contemplating whether it was worth it to speak. Ultimately deciding against it, Will retreated to the other side of the room where his makeshift closet lived. Piles of folded clothes sat at the end of the bed. Most of them were speckled with stains and tattered from wear, based on what Mike could see.
Will wondered back with hesitant steps and handed him a thin, long-sleeved shirt.
“Oh, thank you,” Mike said as he accepted the clothing.
It was a struggle to get out of his current one, but eventually he managed to pull the clean fabric over his head. He still felt putrid. A horrid amount of blood and grime coated every inch of his body. His hair felt greasy despite having washed it a day ago, and he could feel the thickness in his lungs that wouldn't dissipate until he was out of there.
He couldn’t begin to fathom living there for years.
Mike’s eyes lingered on Will despite the exhaustion weighing on him. He leaned his head against the wall and tried to stay awake. Will glanced at him a few times before settling on draping a blanket over Mike’s lap and retreating to his bed.
***
Mike hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until he blinked awake. Startled at the sight of Will watching him intently, though, once he realized, his gaze averted to the book resting in his lap. Blankets surrounded his small frame, where he remained on his mattress.
“Hey, sorry,” Mike said, and then cleared his throat to try to quell the grogginess. Will was still there. The relief sank deep into his bones as he let himself believe that Will was alive. He was alive. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
Without raising his head, Will shrugged and flipped the page in his novel. Mike could tell he wasn’t actually reading by the way his eyes stayed stationary, his fingers wearing the corner of the paper.
Mike moved his shoulders and arms experimentally. He still felt the heaviness of injury weighing him down, practically cementing him to the hardwood floor. When he wiggled around, he found it not quite as unbearable as he thought it might be. He pushed himself up slowly, with the help of the wall to keep him steady. Will watched him nervously, but didn’t move from his spot.
He needed to get them out of there. He couldn’t imagine how badly Will would want to escape the prison he’d been confined to for the past few years. Mike paused to catch his breath and steadied his head before he started looking around again. Taking inventory of anything that may be useful in their getaway.
Will had enough weapons to arm a small army, so that was something at least.
“Okay, so,” Mike said as he moved through the small space. “We need to make a plan. Hop and Nance will be back soon. Probably with El since she’s really the only one who can fight them off efficiently,” Mike started rambling, sorting through his thoughts as Will watched. “But we’re getting out of here. I promise.” He held eye contact with Will, trying to imbue confidence. He didn’t want Will to worry.
Will turned away. “No.”
Mike stammered, caught off guard. “No? No… What?”
Will went back to chewing on his lip and ignoring him. Mike limped over and hesitantly sat beside Will, leaving plenty of space between them. The mattress held firm around his body, barely any softer than the floor. The blankets scratched against his skin uncomfortably.
He lowered his voice. “I know you’ve been here a long time, and I’m sure that you’ve tried to leave before—” He didn’t want to think about what Vecna would have done to keep him there if you went through all the trouble of hiding him. “But you have help now. I’m not going to leave without you.”
Will set his book aside, showing absolutely no indication that he even heard what Mike said until he mumbled no again. Mike took a deep breath to buy himself enough time to think of something else to say. He was not going to fucking fail at this.
Will crossed the room to his shelf of water and returned with a half-filled bottle. After taking a sip, he paused, eyebrows furrowing, and then he handed it over.
The sight of the water made the dryness of his mouth that much worse. “Thanks.”
Will averted his gaze, but sat back on the bed. As far from Mike as the small space allowed. Deciding to table the discussion for the time being, Mike opted to try to get him talking. He wanted to know about Vecna, what he was planning, and what Will knew about it, but Mike knew he had to start small.
“So, what do you usually do all day?” Not that Mike had any idea what time of day it was, since the sky never changed.
Will nodded towards his room like it was obvious. And then he pointed towards the door.
Mike nodded. “I see. Have you been to all the houses nearby?”
Will shrugged in a way that Mike took as a yes. “Why didn’t you stay in one of those? Why this place?”
Will bit the inside of his cheek and fiddled with his hands, pulling at the hem of his sleeves. He wasn’t going to answer, but that was fine.
“I mean,” Mike started when the silence stretched for too long. “It makes sense. Small enough to know what’s going on, and the water’s right there.”
Will inclined his head, staring at Mike like he was an anomaly, something to figure out, but he nodded.
Mike smiled. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a lot.
“And um…” Mike paused. “You’ve been here, alone, the whole time?”
Will stood abruptly and crossed the room to his desk. The conversation was done.
“Okay,” Mike said more to himself. “That’s alright.”
He would have to build up his trust, remind Will that he only wanted to help, that he’s safe. Mike knew he was working with a shorter span of time than when they were kids, and the worry gnawed through almost worse than the bats.